The New Big Brother
by SpikeLover7
Summary: Post DT. Will be two chapters. The aftermath of the crash. Sam finds himself needing to play the role of big brother. A lot of angst and many mushy, brotherly love moments. The perfect recipe for a Supernatural episode IMO.
1. Never Let Sam Drive

**Title:** The New Big Brother

**Author:** JALover7

**Rating:** PG13 – If you can watch the show, you can read this.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Sam, Dean, John, the Impala, or anything related to Supernatural (if I did, I'd have them locked up in my closet, or in Dean's case, my bedroom). Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke, etc. I'm merely borrowing the characters for my own fan fictional devices.

**Spoilers:** All Season 1 up to "Devil's Trap."

**Summary:** Post-DT. Two chapters. The aftermath of the crash. Sam finds himself needing to play the role of big brother. A lot of angst and many mushy, brotherly love moments (AKA: a perfect Supernatural episode).

**AN:** I love this show and I love these characters; I hope I can do them justice. This is part one of two. Read & Review! Please and thank you. Cheers!

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**The New Big Brother**

– – **Prologue – –**

_The Many Rules of Dean Winchester_

Dean Winchester had many rules that must always be followed in regards to Sam. "Never let Sam drive," was the first. The second was, "Always give Sam what he needs."

Tonight, he would make a slight revision to the rules…

But not before he broke them both.

* * *

**The New Big Brother**

– – **Chapter One – –**

_Rule #1: "Never Let Sam Drive"_

"I knew I should never let you drive. What the hell have you done to my car?"

Sam couldn't help but smile as he stood next to the wreck that was Dean's baby. Technically, Dean could hardly blame Sam for the accident. He had been a bit distracted at the time. His brother was bleeding to death in the backseat. They'd just been attacked by a demon – and not just _any_ demon, but THE demon – wearing their father's face. Sam had just had to make the hardest decision of his life: listen to his father and use the last bullet to shoot him in the heart, finally destroying the demon their family had spent nearly their entire lives chasing down, killing his father in the process; or listen to his brother and let the demon get away from them, disobey his father, and leave him alive and disappointed. Sam had cocked the gun and pointed it at his father's chest. Sam had been willing and able to listen to his father this time. That is, until Dean had told him not to. Then he had hesitated. His father's orders then turned to pleas, and Sam was torn even more. But then he heard Dean's quite whisper of "Sam, no," and heard the desperation, pain, and exhaustion in his pleading. And Sam knew he couldn't do it. Dean was so far gone, and Sam honestly didn't know if Dean could survive the loss of their father. As Sam had told his father, killing the demon did _not_ come before everything. Sam had learned a lot from Dean in the past year. And besides, Sam was _really good_ at disobeying his father.

So what with Dean bleeding in the backseat, his father reprimanding him, and Sam driving the car as fast as it would go, he could hardly be blamed for being distracted.

Sam opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he could say anything, a sharp pain burst through him, starting in his head and spreading throughout his body.

As he moaned in pain, he opened his eyes and realized he was still in the twisted wreck of the Impala. His head was splitting and he could feel blood caking the right side of his face and head. He must have been knocked unconscious when the car crashed. He had no idea how long he had been out. He didn't know when they had left the cabin (again, things had been a bit hectic), but he knew when they had gotten there and approximately how long they had stayed, and looking at his watch, Sam figured he had been out for only five minutes or so.

Sam strained his head around, groaning in pain as his head and neck protested. He could see the truck that had hit them, but he could not see the driver. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Sam quickly turned his head toward the back of the car. He had to check on Dean. He saw his brother leaning against the door. Sam could see blood covering the right side of his head and his ear, gently dripping down his face. He could just make out a faint trail of blood oozing down the seat next to Dean's head, and Sam tried not to freak out as he called his name.

"Dean? Dean? Dean!"

No answer.

"Dammit, Dean. Don't make me come back there."

Still no answer.

Sam cursed and got up on his knees on the seat, reaching back to check Dean for a pulse. Half in the backseat, half in the front, he touched Dean's neck. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt a faint but steady pulse. Watching closely, he noticed that Dean's chest was rising and falling gently, and he could hear faint breath escaping from his mouth.

Dean was alive.

For now.

His heart thundering in his chest, Sam sat back down and turned toward his father.

"Dad? Dad?"

He didn't move.

"Dad!" he yelled.

Nothing.

Praying that he was only unconscious like Dean, Sam leaned over the seat to get a closer view of his father. He could see a large, bright patch of blood on his forehead and the right side of his face, trickling down from his head, which was leaning against the window. He saw the blood on his father's right leg from where he had shot him. He tried calling out for him again but to no avail. Sam leaned over further and placed his hand on his father's neck to check for a pulse.

Sam's heart leapt in his throat as seconds passed and he felt nothing.

"No."

Sam placed his head gently on his father's chest, listening for a heartbeat and breathing.

Nothing happened. His chest didn't move. Sam didn't feel a heartbeat or a pulse, and he didn't hear breathing.

Sam tried his neck again, praying for the faintest pulse that could tell him his father was still hanging on. He waited and waited.

Nothing.

"Dad. Dad!"

Sam started to shake him, gently at first, then harder.

"DAD!"

Sam lifted up John's hand to feel for a pulse on his wrist, and his blood froze in his veins.

"No…"

His father's hand was ice cold.

John Winchester was dead.

Sam dropped his hand.

"Oh, God. No. No, no, no. Dad, no." Tears sprang to Sam's eyes and began to gently fall as Sam fought the urge to vomit and lost. He bent his head over the seat and threw up, but having eaten nothing in so long, it was only a dry heaving.

When he was done he sat up, shaking, trying to absorb what had happened. His father was dead. Sam had refused to shoot him, letting the demon go, and in doing so, he had delayed his father's death by mere minutes and lost the demon in the process. If his father had been alive, he would have been furious. His father. One of the strongest people he knew, who fought hard and never let anything he hunted get away. Dead. From a stupid car crash. Good God. How was he going to tell-

"Dean! Dean, wake up! Naptime's over!"

Dean didn't answer.

Sam tried to open his door, banging hard on it with his shoulder when it stuck. It wouldn't budge.

"Dammit!"

Sam banged on it with his feet, and it still wouldn't move.

"Dean!"

Still no answer.

Panic surged through Sam's body, and as he let out a yell of rage and frustration and prepared to bang on the door again, he was shocked to see the door tear itself open violently, yanking clear off its hinges, crashing to the ground.

Sam panted, shocked at what he had done. Back at the cabin, when the demon was killing Dean, Sam had felt rage surging through him, and with it he could feel power. But when he had tried to use the power to get the gun, he had felt a wall. The wall was so strong, and Sam had only used his powers once, when he hadn't even been trying. He knew the wall was of the demon's making, and he had been useless against it. But now, there was nothing in his way.

Sam felt sorry for anything that tried to get between him and his brother now.

He grabbed his cell phone out of his pocket and practically flew out of the car, not pausing to wonder as the back door flew open just before he got to it. He fell on his knees next to his brother and was relieved when he found that Dean was still breathing.

Sam quickly dialed 911 on his cell phone. He told the woman who answered everything he knew about where they were and what had happened. He used the name Brooks, as that was what the ID's they all carried now said. They were always prepared for moments like this, but it didn't make things any easier. When the woman replied that they would be there in 5-10 minutes, which seemed like forever to Sam, he hung up the phone. As he slid it back in his pocket, he heard the best sound he had ever heard in his life.

"Sam?"

"Dean?"

Sam saw Dean open his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and he looked groggy, but he was awake. Sam let out a sigh of relief.

"I thought I'd lost you, man."

"Dude, no chick flick moments," Dean replied tiredly.

Sam started to laugh, but stopped when Dean started coughing, loudly and harshly. He shook as he wheezed, and then it passed, and Sam saw blood start to pour from his brother's mouth again. Dean moaned loudly, and he started to tip toward the door. Sam caught him in his arms and, as gently as he could, he pulled Dean out of the car, holding one arm behind his back and grabbing him behind his knees with the other. He lowered him gently to the ground, flinching as Dean moaned softly.

"Sam…"

"It's okay, Dean. Help is on the way."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Where's Dad?"

A lump caught in Sam's throat. How was he going to tell him? It would crush him.

"Dean, he's…Dad's…. He looked away from Dean, afraid to answer.

"Sam, please."

Sam couldn't stand to hear Dean beg. Dean's Beg was equivalent to Sam's Face, the one that could get almost anyone, most especially Dean, to do anything for him, including give him the last of the Lucky Charms.

Sam couldn't deny him.

"He's gone, Dean." He looked Dean straight in the eye, his heart and voice breaking as he said, "He's dead."

Sam could practically feel Dean's pain as he watched his face crumble.

"He's gone?"

Tears formed in Sam's eyes again at the broken look on his brother's face. He nodded.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"He can't…he can't be…"

"Dean-"

Whatever Sam was going to say was cut off when Dean's look of sorrow turned to one of fear.

"Sam!"

Sam barely had time to react. Before he could do anything, he was pulled to his feet by the neck of his shirt. He vaguely caught Dean say, "Leave him alone!" as his feet left the ground and he was sent flying through the air away from his brother.

He flew twenty feet away and landed on the ground with a thud that sent pain shooting through his ribs. The breath was knocked out of him. When he could finally catch it, he sat up as carefully as he could, feeling a few bruised ribs. He turned to see an old man he had never met standing over his brother. It had to be the truck driver.

Sam slowly got to his feet, ignoring the pain in his chest. But before he could start for his brother, Sam watched in horror as the man picked his brother up by the front of his shirt and, just as he had done to Sam, threw him through the air. Thankfully, he didn't throw Dean as far. He landed on his back a few feet from the back of the car. Sam could see Dean squirming on the ground as the man walked toward him.

The demon. The demon had come back for them. It just wouldn't leave them alone.

The gun. He had to get the gun.

Then he remembered that he already had it. Back at the cabin, Sam had put the gun in his pants as his father had limped out to the car. Sam had then reached down and lifted his brother up in his arms, being as gentle as he could when Dean cried out in pain. He had carried him out of the cabin as quickly and as carefully as he could. His father had climbed in the front seat and Sam had put Dean down gently in the back. Dean had groaned in pain as he sat him down, and Sam had told him everything was going to be okay. He was going to get them to the hospital. After Dean had told him to "for God's sake, Sam, be careful with the car," he had climbed into the front seat and sped off, the gun forgotten in his pants in the panic that had ensued.

Sam reached back and felt for the gun. It was still there, nestled safely at his back, hidden by his shirt. This had to end. It had taken his mother, the woman he had wanted to marry, and now his father. He would not let the son of a bitch take his brother now, too.

As Sam started moving as fast as he could toward the demon and his brother, he saw the man lean over Dean. Sam continued toward them, wondering what the demon would do.

Half way toward them, the man leaned down and punched Dean in the face, hard. Sam held back a yell and kept going. The demon punched Dean again, two more times. Sam was only a few feet away.

Then, in one quick movement, the demon in the man's body looked up and moved the man's right foot to Dean's chest, pressing down hard, eliciting a painful gasp from Dean.

"Don't move," the demon sneered.

Sam obeyed.

"Your brother's dying," it hissed. "He doesn't have long."

Sam looked down to see his brother watching him groggily. Sam tried to convey to his brother with a look that it would be okay. Sam was going to save him. He had to.

Sam looked back up at the demon, and that's when he saw it. The man's eyes were black, not the sickly yellow of the demon they had just faced. This was just another of the demon's henchmen, probably more of its stupid offspring. Sam could have kicked himself. Why hadn't he run to the car to get another gun? Why had he just assumed it was the demon? Now all he had was the Colt and its last bullet, and he wasn't facing the demon whose name was written on it.

The demon spoke again. "Now," it said, "Let's make a deal."

"I never did like that show," Sam replied angrily. He was more like Dean than he realized.

The demon ignored him. "You come with me, right now, and we leave this place behind. I take you with me, and your brother gets to live."

"Where will you take me?"

"Well now, why would I want to tell you that? You come with me quietly – no fuss, no questions – and I leave your brother here to die. If you refuse, well…." The demon pressed down on Dean's chest, and Sam cringed as Dean groaned in pain. The demon let up on the pressure, but didn't remove its foot. "He dies a bit sooner.

Sam looked at Dean, panting and gasping and bleeding on the ground. Dean looked over at him and whispered, "Don't do it, Sammy."

Sam shook his head.

"Sam, please, don't. Sam…"

Sam could never deny Dean when he pleaded with him, but this time, he knew he had to.

"I'll go. Just leave him alone."

"Sam, no."

"It's okay, Dean."

"No."

An evil grin spread across the man's face.

"You pathetic humans and your love. Come here."

"Sam…"

Sam started walking toward the man, ignoring his brother's pleas.

"Sam, don't do it. Sammy…"

Sam stopped in front of the demon. "Start moving," it hissed, pointing in the direction of the road.

Sam took a step in that direction, but he turned around to face the demon, and started walking slowly backward, his eyes never leaving the man.

The demon smiled. "Smart boy." Sam's heart beat fast as he continued slowly backward and finally, when Sam was a few steps away, the demon thankfully took his foot off of Dean's chest and moved after him.

Dean let out a loud breath, panting, and turned his head toward the man and his brother.

"Leave him alone," Dean hissed.

The man put his hand tightly on Sam's shoulder and turned to face Dean. "Don't worry; _I_ won't be doing anything to him."

The demon turned Sam around and started marching him slowly away up the hill.

"Sam. Sam!"

"Dean, don't," Sam said loudly.

"Sam…"

Sam fought back the tears as his brother practically whimpered his chubby-four-year-old name.

"Sammy…"

Sam said nothing and kept moving. He just needed the right moment, when the demon was distracted…

"You son of a bitch!"

Sam wasn't shocked to hear the inevitable anger in his brother's voice. The man stopped, then turned them both around. Sam nearly cried when he saw Dean struggling to stand.

"I'm not gonna let you take him," Dean said. He cried out in pain as his arms gave way and he fell back down on his stomach. But he didn't stop. He got slowly onto his hands and knees. He pushed slightly with his arms, trying to stand, but he was shaking too much. He fell on his elbows, crying out and cursing in pain and frustration.

"Dean, stop."

The man turned them around again, apparently deciding Dean was no threat, and as they started to walk away again, Dean growled in his chest, and Sam was surprised the demon didn't simply burst into flame from the anger radiating from Dean.

But the demon did stop again. He turned Sam around and they both watched as Dean started crawling slowly toward them. Sam couldn't bear to watch. But the demon was enjoying it.

"You humans. You really are pathetic."

"I'm going to kill you," Dean sneered, still crawling.

The demon laughed. "Like I said, pathetic." And before Sam could do anything, the man flicked his hand and Dean fell down with a grunt.

They stood and waited, and Dean tried once again to get on his hands and knees. The man flicked his hand and he fell again. But Dean wouldn't quit. He tried again, and this time, the demon flicked his hand and Dean screamed in pain as he fell.

"Don't!" Sam cried.

The demon continued to smile. "Pathetic. Let's go."

The started, once again, to walk away.

"Sam…Sammy…"

Sam looked over his shoulder to see Dean lying where he had fallen, staring at him like his whole world was collapsing. Sam wanted with all his heart to convey to his brother that he had a plan; that he was waiting for the opportunity to put it into action; that he was not going to walk away and leave him to die.

"Dean, it's going to be okay," he said, as vehemently and as lovingly as he could.

At Sam's words, the strangest look passed over his brother's face. It was almost…recognition?

Sam watched as Dean relaxed and gave him a small nod. And Sam knew that, somehow, Dean knew what he was up to; that Dean had got the message he had so badly wanted to convey. Dean knew that Sam just needed a distraction.

So Dean gave him one.

"That man, in the alleyway, that was your brother in there, wasn't it?"

The demon stopped, and that was all the answer Dean needed.

"He was pathetic, you know. I did the world a favor when I killed him."

The demon growled, let go of Sam's shoulder, and turned to face Dean. Billions of thoughts flashed through Sam's head in that instant. This was it, the last bullet. This wasn't the demon the bullet was meant for. If he shot it, he would have nothing left to avenge the deaths the demon had caused. Not only that, but he would be killing an innocent man. If he didn't shoot the man, Sam would be taken off to wherever the demon wanted. But Sam knew what it would do to Dean if he left with the demon. It was the same reason he hadn't shot his father back in the cabin when Dean had begged him not to. Sam was all Dean had now, and he was sure as hell not going to leave him knowing that doing so would kill him.

He looked at Dean and, as the demon raised the man's hand to strike at Dean once more, Sam used the reflexes he had honed from being trained nearly his whole life and pulled the Colt out, cocked it, raised it, pointed it at the man's head, and pulled the trigger.

Sam saw the look of surprise on the man's face and watched it freeze as blue sparks shot out from the man's body. He watched as the man collapsed backward and fell to the ground. The blue sparks dissipated and the man lay still. Dead.

Sam dropped the useless gun where he stood. Now he knew how Dean must have felt when he had shot a man with a magic bullet to protect his brother. Only now there were no bullets left.

Sam heard a soft moan and a quiet whisper of his name and looked up to see Dean lying on the ground looking weakly at him. And Sam knew that he didn't care that there were no bullets left.

Sam quickly covered the short distance between him and his brother and fell on his knees at Dean's side.

This was the first time Sam had really looked at Dean since the cabin, and Sam was mortified as he took in the sight of his brother soaked in blood. "Oh God," Sam gasped. He wanted to try and stem the flow but he had no idea where to start. He seemed to be bleeding everywhere and yet nowhere. The demons had really done a number on him. Sam found the place where the most blood seemed to have pooled and pressed down with his right hand.

Dean groaned at the feeling, and Sam cringed, wondering just what the demons had done to his brother that he couldn't see, and if it would even help to press down on wounds he had seen pouring blood but could not find. When a whimper escaped Dean's lips, Sam let go, at a loss for how to help his brother. Dean was still breathing, but in really sharp, painful sounding gasps. How long had it been? Where were those damn ambulances?

Sam knew he had to keep his brother's attention. He had to keep him breathing; keep him listening, talking, smiling. He had to keep him alive. So he looked his brother straight in the face and said the first thing that popped into his mind.

"Dean, you look like crap."

And Sam was relieved when a smile, albeit a quick, faint one, passed over his brother's lips. "Sam…you always look like crap."

Sam smiled, but the smile quickly left his face as Dean coughed harshly.

"Dean, now is not the time for your trademark wit. You've gotta keep your strength. Save it for when you're recuperating in the hospital and we're both dying of boredom." Sam hoped that talking about the hospital would help get him there.

Unfortunately, never keeping his mouth shut was another one of Dean's trademarks.

"That was the last bullet, Sam."

"I know."

"But what are you-"

"It doesn't matter. We'll figure something else out. There has to be another answer. After you get better we'll have all the time in the world to look for it."

"Sammy, is Dad really…"

Sam knew Dean wouldn't be able to finish, so Sam finished for him. "Yeah, Dean. He's gone."

His brother's eyes filled up with tears. But as ever, Dean refused to let them fall. Instead he moaned loudly and broke into a renewed fit of coughing. Sam watched helplessly until the coughs subsided. Then Dean called his name out with a faint whimper. "Sam."

Sam had never seen Dean this vulnerable, and it scared him to death. "I'm right here, Dean." He reached out and grabbed Dean's right hand in his own, holding it tightly. "I'm right here." Dean didn't fight the chick flick moment, and that scared Sam even more. Sam knew that Dean was slipping away.

Tears formed in his eyes at the realization, and Sam knew he had to do everything he could to keep Dean with him. Dean was all he had left. And knowing that Dean was too weak to fight it, he told him so.

"Dean, I need you. You have to stay with me. You know what Dad has been telling you all your life. "Protect Sammy." "Watch over Sammy." "Give Sammy what he needs." Well I need you, Dean. I need you here. I need you here dragging me all over the country, helping me save people. I need you here playing pranks on me, making fun of me, forcing me to date. I need you here to help me find the house with a white picket fence, the 9-5, the 2.5 kids, and the dog. I need you here to help me deal with these new powers I have; the visions and the nightmares. I need you here helping me chase down the demon that's taken so much from us. I need you here to help me kill that son of a bitch. It's taken so much from us, Dean. So much from me. I'm not gonna let it take you, too. You're stronger than this, Dean. Stronger and braver than anyone or anything I know. You don't want to disappoint Dad. You have to protect me. Give me what I need. And right now I need you to live."

When Sam finished, he realized that he had been crying. His face was wet with many shed tears. He reached up with his free hand to wipe them away. When he was done, he looked at Dean's face to gauge his reaction. For just a moment, he thought he saw a lone tear slip from his brother's eyes, but the next moment he figured he had just imagined it as his brother's face lit up into his trademark smirk.

"Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful."

And Sam actually laughed. "You are such an ass."

The smirk didn't leave his face. "Yeah well, your face is an ass."

For a second, Sam almost forgot that the two of them were in the middle of a deserted field in the dead of night and that Dean was bleeding to death on the ground. For a second, the two of them were in the car, driving off to some small town in the middle of nowhere to help some people they had never met. They were two young men on an important mission that wasn't finished yet. They were two brothers on a road trip, laughing and joking and playing pranks on one another. But it was only a second.

Sam was pulled out of his fantasy by the wail of distant sirens that split the silence of the night. Sam looked toward the noise and let out a sigh of relief as he saw headlights far off on the horizon, approaching fast. Unfortunately, Sam felt they were not coming fast enough, as next to him Dean's breath hitched in his chest.

Sam jerked around to face his brother again. "Dean?"

Dean couldn't answer him, as his breathing became rapid and frantic.

Sam squeezed Dean's hand to reassure him. "Dean, it's okay, I'm here. Just calm down. Breathe through it. Come on, Dean, you can beat this." Not knowing what else to do, he gently put his other hand on his brother's forehead, trying helplessly to coax him through it.

All of a sudden, Dean's breathing dropped off. For a second Sam was afraid it had stopped, but he could hear the faintest of noises coming from Dean's mouth. He was losing his brother.

"Dean, you're going to be okay. The ambulances are coming. They'll be here any minute."

"Sam…." It was a choked, feeble noise that forced Sam to start crying again.

"Dean, you can fight this. I know you can. You have to."

"I'm trying, Sammy. I'm just so tired." He said this so faintly that Sam could barely hear him.

"Come on, Dean. Try harder. Look, I'm making The Face. You know you can't deny The Face." Sam worked through his tears and forced himself to make The Face. But it didn't work. Dean's breathing just got slower and quieter.

Sam's hands began to shake. He clutched Dean's hand harder. Dean's eyes closed, and Sam felt Dean's heart skip a few beats. His eyes opened again as Sam called his name. His heart kept beating, but Sam could tell it was slowing down. He looked quickly to the road. The ambulance still seemed so far away. He looked back toward his brother. His eyes were closed again. Sam felt lost. Tears fell slowly and silently down his face.

"Dean, please," he whispered.

Dean opened his eyes again.

"Please. Please, Dean."

Dean's breathing and heart rate increased. Maybe Dean was catching his second wind. His last wind. Sam felt a gentle squeeze of his hand, followed by his brother's voice.

"Sam?"

Sam's voice caught in his throat as he replied, "Yeah, Dean?"

A soft smile spread over Dean's face as he looked up at his younger brother and spoke softly.

"I love you…bitch." He said the last bit with his trademark smirk firmly in place.

Sam smiled, laughed lightly, and replied, "I love you, too, jerk."

And they both knew they meant it.

Dean began to smile. Then Dean's body jerked harshly and he began to tremble, slowly at first, then faster. Sam watched in horror as blood poured out of his brother's mouth. He had been slowly bleeding the whole time, but it was nothing like this. Dean's trembling got worse, and Sam grasped his hand harder. He glanced quickly at the road and saw that an entourage of ambulances and police cars was almost at the crash site. It would take them awhile to get the things they needed and get down the hill to them. His brother didn't have that long.

Still holding tightly to Dean's hand, Sam moved his left arm underneath Dean's back and, holding his head on his shoulder, gently lifted his brother up into a half sitting position. He guided Dean's head and body closer to his chest, feeling Dean shaking against him. He coaxed Dean's head to the side, hoping to keep him from choking on the blood that was gathering in his throat. For what felt like an eternity, Sam cradled his brother's broken body close to him, never letting go of his hand, and quietly begged him over and over to stay with him.

As Sam looked up to see EMT's jumping quickly out of the ambulances, Sam felt Dean shake harder. He looked down and was surprised to see that, for the first time in as long as he could remember (Dean could have told him that it was the first time in twenty-two years), his brother was crying. Sam continued whispering to him to hold on. Dean reached out with his free hand and grabbed onto Sam's arm like it was a lifeline. Sam heard Dean faintly call out for him, the sound of quiet sobbing echoing from him. Sam recalled countless nights like this from when they were young. Back then it was Sam who was scared and upset. He had no mom, his daddy hadn't come home, he was four years old and afraid, and Dean was the older brother who was always there to quietly hold him till he fell asleep. Only now it was Sam's turn to be the big brother. Sam held back his own sobs for his brother's sake and just held him as Dean let go of all the emotion he had kept bottled up for twenty-two years.

Then once more, Dean's breathing slowed down. He stopped sobbing. The tears stopped falling. He stopped shaking.

Sam kept going.

"They're almost here, Dean. You have to hang on. Just a little bit longer."

"Sam…I'm sorry."

"No, Dean."

Dean's voice grew fainter.

"I don't want to go," he whimpered.

"Stay with me, Dean," Sam pleaded. "You have to stay with me. I need you."

Sam could barely hear him.

"Sammy…"

"Dean?" Sam began to lose what little control he had left. He choked out a yell of his brother's name, shaking him. "Dean!"

Dean let out a loud gasp, fighting for just one more breath.

As he exhaled slowly, Sam thought he heard a faint whisper of "love you," before Dean's eyes rolled back in his head. His body fell limp in his baby brother's arms. His hand lost its tenuous hold.

Sam's world collapsed.

Then it exploded.

* * *

**AN:** That's it for Chapter One, but it's far from over. The next chapter, the last one, will be much harder to write (I wrote the end of this one first and then breezed through it). Expect it in a week or two. 'Til then, please R&R! Cheers! 


	2. Never Piss Sam Off

**AN: **Thanks for all the great reviews, guys. You are all so awesome.

So as usually happens when I think I don't have enough to write, I ended up writing twice as much as I thought I would. So this is not the last chapter (I know you're all SO upset). There will be a third chapter (or a third and an epilogue). So enjoy this for now, and I'll get cracking on the end. Don't forget to review, because reviews make me a happy writer. And happy writers write faster.:D

* * *

**The New Big Brother **

– – **Chapter Two – –**

_(New) Rule #2: "Never Piss Sam Off"_

Millions of thoughts swam through Sam's mind as he held his brother's lifeless body in his arms.

Disbelief.

Uncertainty.

Loneliness.

Frustration.

Fear.

Sadness.

Until now, sadness had been the most prevalent emotion he had felt.

Sam looked up to see a group of EMT's heading toward him, carrying equipment. He looked back down at Dean.

Sam shook him gently.

"Dean…"

No answer.

Suddenly sadness was pushed to the back of his mind, and a new emotion pushed its way to the front.

Anger.

Sam Winchester was pissed off.

He was not going to take Dean's death lying down.

Sam shook Dean and started yelling at him.

"Dean, wake up! Don't play games with me. It's not funny. Dean!"

Sam shook him again.

"Dammit, wake up, Dean! Don't leave me here alone. Son of a bitch! Wake up!"

Sam could feel anger surging through him, growing stronger as the seconds passed and Dean refused to appease him.

He started screaming.

"Dean! Dean! DEAN!"

He felt a hand gently touch his shoulder, and he was surprised at the growl that escaped him in response. He looked up to see the owner of the hand, a female EMT in her late twenties, flinch away. Apparently she was a bit surprised, too.

"You have to let him go so we can help him," she said in a calm and gentle voice.

Two male EMT's stepped next to Dean's side and reached out to pull him from Sam's shaking arms.

Sam's instinctual reaction was to hold on tight. "No!" he screamed, pulling Dean away from the men and holding on tighter to him. The two men paused. Sam realized he must have been a frightening sight. His height was intimidating even when he was kneeling down, his face was flushed, and he was so angry and upset…

The woman tried again. "Please. We are just trying to help him."

Sam was panting harshly, shaking with anger. Then he noticed the look of fear in the eyes of the men. Suddenly, Sam realized that he could actually feel the rage pouring off of him in waves, standing in the air around him. He'd never felt anything like it. It was like a great power or energy was brewing inside him and melting off into the air, and he realized that the people around him could feel it.

It scared the hell out of him.

"Please…"

Sam was shaken out of the angry, red haze he could feel inside of himself. He calmed down enough to finally grasp what was going on.

"Help him," he ground out. It was an order.

He loosened his hold on Dean and the two men leaned down and pulled Dean quickly and carefully from Sam's arms. They carried him a few feet away from Sam and lay him gently on the ground. One man called for a stretcher and the defibrillator. A woman carried over a handful of equipment and set it down, then raced off to the ambulance to bring down a stretcher. Sam watched as one man cut open Dean's shirt, exposing a sight that churned Sam's stomach. Dean was covered in blood. There were deep gouges over the area of his chest where his heart was. Sam could see purplish bruises growing in the few spots of chest that were not soaked in blood.

"Oh my god," he heard the man gasp. The other man, who was fiddling with the equipment, looked to see what was wrong.

"Jesus," he said. "This doesn't look like it was caused by the crash." He paused for only a second, then he quickly refocused.

"Start CPR," he ordered the other man. Sam watched the man begin to set up the defibrillator as the other began compressions.

The woman next to him bent down to talk to him.

"Are you Sam?"

"Dean's dead," Sam whispered harshly.

"Sam?"

"He's only been gone a minute. You can bring him back." It wasn't a question.

"They are going to do everything they can to bring him back, I promise. He's your brother?"

Sam wasn't going to cooperate. He knew this tactic. Try and get him calmed down so she could stick needles in his arm and shove air down his throat and make him weak and helpless so she could "take care of him."

It wasn't going to happen.

Sam watched the man perform CPR on his brother. He stood up and started to stride over to where the men were working.

The woman reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Sam, you should stay away and give them some room to work."

Sam wasn't having any of it.

"Let go of me," he growled. He was surprised when the woman yanked her hand away in shock, as if she had been burned. She gaped at him and did not protest as he walked over to the men.

The CPR was not working.

Sam moved over to where Dean's head lay and knelt down next to him.

"Son, you need to back away," the man with the paddles ordered as he prepared to begin using them.

Sam ignored him.

"Dean, you have to come back. I'm not kidding. I'm the big brother now, and you have to listen to me. The big brother is always right, remember? You are not dying. Not now."

"Son, come on, now. Let them help him and they can help you."

Sam looked up to see a policeman standing next to the woman who had first approached him. He was a big man – nearly as tall as Sam and twice as wide.

But Sam would not be pushed around.

"CPR isn't working."

"I'm ready," announced the man with the paddles. Sam heard a call of "Clear!" and the paddles were placed on his brother's chest. Dean's body jerked up, and Sam noticed the empty sound of the flat line he could spot on a screen close by.

"Again!" the man yelled. He prepared the paddles, called "Clear!" and tried again.

A jolt. A jerk.

A flat line.

"Dean, wake up! Don't do this. DEAN!"

Sam felt a pair of arms grab him from behind and drag him away.

"NO!" Sam yelled. He was surprised to feel the man let go of him, but he didn't dwell on it as he scrambled back over to his brother.

"It's not working," the man holding the paddles said.

"Keep trying," Sam growled. The man looked at him. Sam rose to the challenge.

"DO IT!"

Everyone leapt in astonishment as they heard the sound of glass breaking. They looked toward one of the medical cases lying on the ground and saw two broken vials leaking fluid into the box.

No one had touched them.

"Michael!" The other EMT looked at the one with the paddles, eyes open wide.

"Again," the man called Michael announced with a slight quiver in his voice.

He upped the voltage on the machine.

"Clear!"

Dean's body jerked.

The line remained flat.

Sam lost it.

"DEAN! YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH! DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME! DEAN! GOD DAMMIT, DEAN! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME HERE ALONE! DON'T YOU DARE! DEAN!"

"Clear!"

Nothing.

"DEAN!" Sam could feel the ground vibrating gently beneath him and the air around him crackling.

Suddenly, a harsh prick on his arm crashed through the fog surrounding him. He looked down to see a needle sticking out of his arm, and he watched as a clear fluid pushed into it. He saw the woman who had first approached him take the needle slowly out of his arm.

"You bitch," Sam growled, anger radiating off of him.

The woman ignored his harsh language. "It's okay, Sam. It's going to be fine."

Sam jerked away when she tried to touch him. She tried again. Her hand made contact with his arm. "Sam, it's okay. Everything will be fine."

Suddenly, Sam could feel a gentle calm enter its way into his body. It entered from where the woman touched him, and Sam could feel it spread quickly throughout his body. The haze slowly lifted. The tension in the air dissipated. The ground stopped vibrating. Every muscle in Sam's body relaxed. His anger started to slowly fade.

The woman had injected something into him, Sam was sure of it. But he was almost positive that the calm he felt spreading through him did not come from the drug. It was coming from her.

"What…"

"It's okay."

Sam looked back toward his brother. The man was preparing to try and shock Dean back to life once more.

Sam felt dizzy. Unable to stop himself, he tipped over toward the ground. The woman caught him and gently lowered him down. Sam was left lying on the ground near his brother's head, looking into his wide, cold, lifeless eyes.

Tears leapt to his eyes again and gently fell. Dean wasn't coming back. And soon, Sam would not be able to help him.

As the man prepared to shock Dean, Sam pulled together every last bit of strength he could muster.

"Dean!" he cried out.

"Clear!"

The man touched the paddles to Dean's chest.

"Dean, please," Sam begged, a tear falling gently down his cheek.

Then he saw it. The line on the screen changed. The line jerked upward once. The toneless, flat noise changed to a beep.

The line continued.

Then it jerked again with a beep.

The line continued.

The line jerked and beeped sooner than it had before.

"My god," he heard the giant man whisper from somewhere high up above him.

Sam let out a long, relieved sigh. It was music to his ears. Sam listened as the beep grew steadier. The beeps were few and far between, but they were there. Tears fell from his eyes.

Dean was alive.

Then everything began to grow fuzzy. Sam heard one of the men announce, "He's alive. His pulse is weak and thready, but he's alive. We need to get him to the hospital as quickly as possible."

Sam was barely conscious. He watched as the men lifted Dean quickly up to the stretcher that had arrived at some point. One of them put a mask on his face with a long tube attached to it. The other began to compress the air pump that was attached to it. Sam smiled softly as Dean's chest began to rise and fall. Sam noticed that at some point, Dean's eyes had been closed.

Sam's vision began to fade. He sent up a quick prayer to whoever would listen.

_Please, I'll do anything. Just let him live._

Sam looked toward Dean.

_Please, Dean. Stay here with me. I need you._

The last thing Sam saw was his brother's face.

Then the world faded to black.

* * *

"_We're losing him!"_

"_Get the cart!"_

"_Clear!"_

"_He's flat lining."_

"_Do it again!"_

"_Clear!"_

"_Again!"_

…

"_That's it. We've done all we can."_

"_Time of death: 1:37 am."_

…

"_Where's my brother?"_

"_I'm very sorry, Sam. Your brother is dead."_

"_What? No, he can't be. Dean? Dean!"_

"Dean!"

Sam jerked awake violently, sitting up only to crash back down onto a mattress when something on his wrists kept him from sitting up.

"It's okay. Relax. You're in the hospital. Just lie back. You're going to be fine. Can you tell me your name?"

The hospital.

Everything came rushing back to him. The demon torturing Dean. The crash. Dad dead. Dean dead. Dean coming back.

Sam looked up to see a nurse bending over him, gazing at him calmly. There was a man in the room, too, fiddling around with some things on a cart. Sam could hear the electronic beeping of the heart monitor. It was beeping rapidly.

Sam groaned in pain. It had been one of his strongest visions yet. Dean had-

"Oh god. Dean."

He had to find him.

Sam tried to sit up, and once again crashed back down to the mattress.

"Son, you have to calm down," the nurse told him. "You've been in a car crash. You could have serious brain damage and a few of your ribs may be cracked."

Sam ignored her, looking instead to assess why he couldn't move. He saw thick leather straps binding his wrists to the bed frame.

Apparently, they had been a bit freaked out by his earlier behavior.

He looked at the nurse. "Let me out of here," he ordered as calmly as he could.

"I'm sorry, but you need to stay here."

"Let me out," he said less calmly.

"Son, I'm sorry, but-"

"No!" Sam sat up on his elbows and pulled as hard as he could. The straps wouldn't budge. He pulled harder, his body thrashing around on the bed as he started pulling hard enough to make his wrists bleed.

"Let me out of here!" he yelled. "I need to see my brother!"

The nurse put her hands on Sam's shoulders and tried to force him down. He jerked wildly and shook her loose. She called for the doctor, who turned around quickly, a needle in his hand. He reached over Sam and gave it to her.

"I'll hold him down."

"No!" Sam fought the doctor as he tried to push him back so the nurse could get a shot at his vein. Sam struggled, the heart monitor beeping rapidly.

"It's alright, son. Your brother will be fine."

Sam heard the woman and saw the needle heading for his left arm.

"NO!"

Before the needle could touch him, Sam heard the sound of shattering. The doctor and the nurse jumped at the sound. The nurse screamed as something else shattered. Sam let out a fierce, loud yell that echoed off the walls of the room, and the straps undid themselves. Sam sat up, tearing wires and tubes out of himself as he did so. Before the nurse or the doctor could react, Sam jumped out of the bed and pinned the nurse to the wall, his hands tight on her shoulders.

"Where's my brother?" he demanded.

"I don't-"

"Dean! My brother! He was in the car crash with me!"

Sam saw a movement out of the corner of his eye and, without thinking, he let go of the nurse with one hand and used it to shove the doctor as hard as he could. The doctor skidded across the floor on his feet and landed in a chair that was sitting in his path.

Sam turned back to the wide-eyed nurse. The look on her face, a look of pure terror, brought Sam down a bit. He loosened his grip on her but did not let go.

"My brother. Please."

The woman continued to stare at him, but he felt her shoulders loosen a bit beneath his hands.

"The ER. Third room down on the left."

Sam let out a sigh, trying to calm down. This behavior wasn't just scaring the hell out of the doctors.

It was scaring the hell out of him.

He looked back up at the woman and let her go.

"Thank you," he said. He looked back at the doctor, breathing heavily from his chair, then at the nurse. "I'm really sorry." He hoped they knew how much he meant it. He thought he caught a look of understanding on the nurse's face before he pushed his way out of the door and into the hallway.

If Dean made it out of this alive, he was going to kill him.

* * *

"We're losing him!" 

"Get the cart!"

"What the hell are you doing in here?"

Sam had just barged his way into the ER. No one had tried to stop him on his way down the hall.

Dean would have been proud of how quickly Sam had earned a "stay-the-hell-away-from-me" rep for himself.

The man who had asked what he was doing there walked quickly over to him as the others continued to work, shouting back and forth.

"You can't be in here."

Sam felt anger building in him again.

"Doctor, if he promises to stay calm and out of the way, I think we should let him stay."

Sam caught the familiar voice and saw the female EMT who had been with him at the crash site. Sam felt his anger begin to slowly fade.

"Fine, whatever," replied one of the men working on Dean, who Sam assumed was the doctor in charge. "Just keep him out of the way."

The man standing next to Sam hurried back over to the doctor as the woman approached.

"How is he?" Sam asked.

"He's been touch and go since-"

"We've lost him."

Sam looked in horror as the flat line appeared on the screen and the empty, toneless noise that would forever haunt his dreams came back.

"Oh god," Sam whispered. He watched as the doctors once again prepared the defibrillator.

"Here, I'll bring you a bit closer," the woman said. She gently grabbed his arm and pulled him along the outskirts of the room to an open corner. Being the tallest person in the room, he could easily see his brother over the heads surrounding him.

Sam stood helpless and watched as the doctors tried to shock Dean back to life.

"Dean, please."

Sam didn't know what to do. His anger was kept at bay only by the woman standing at his side. But he didn't have the energy to wonder why.

The doctors tried again.

The flat sound of the monitor echoed in his head as the noise in the room seemed to fade out. Tears fell down Sam's face as another attempt brought the same effect.

Sam felt lost. Why would he have had that vision if the could only stand here and watch uselessly?

Then Sam remembered something.

Back at the crash site, Sam had so badly wanted to tell Dean to stop trying to follow him…and Sam had felt something. It had felt like a small thread leading out of his body. He had focused on what he wanted to tell Dean, and how badly he wanted him to know it. He had felt something small shoot out of him, and he felt it travel along the invisible thread, which had then connected itself to Dean. And Dean had nodded in recognition.

Sam had no idea how that had worked. He knew only how it had felt.

As Sam watched helplessly as his brother was shocked again, Sam closed his eyes and did the only thing he could think to do.

He focused all his desire for his brother to live, and focused on just what he would tell him if he were alive to hear it.

_Come back, Dean. Please. You're the only one I have left now. Please. Don't leave me. I need you…I love you._

And miraculously, Sam felt the thread materialize. He focused on it, and, not quite understanding how (he would never be able to put it into words), he pushed his thoughts and feelings out. He felt them shoot across the invisible line. He felt the end of the thread floating in space, and he concentrated with all his might on connecting it with Dean.

Sam cried out when he felt the thread connect, and all the thoughts and emotions he had let out make contact.

Sam's legs suddenly buckled under him, and he heard a surprised cry of his name as gentle arms caught him and slowed his progress to the ground.

Sam collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily.

Now Sam watched from the floor, the surprised woman still holding his shoulders, as the paddles made their descent once more for his brother's skin.

Sam faintly called out his brother's same.

The paddles connected.

Dean's body jerked.

The line leapt to life.

Sam heard the beeping of the monitor start up slowly, then rapidly build to a strong, steady pulse. He heard the doctor's exclaiming and cursing in surprise.

And then he heard a faint noise come from beneath the mask covering Dean's face.

He watched as one of the doctors tentatively removed the mask.

Dean breathed in and out rapidly when the mask was gone.

He was breathing. On his own.

His heart was beating.

And then Sam heard a faint cry escape from his brother's mouth, and fresh tears started to fall. Tears of joy, and then tears of sorrow when he could hear what Dean was saying.

"Mom…Mom, come back…Mom, please."

Sam's heart leapt in his throat. Had he really seen Mom?

The room had grown silent and still, shock and awe evident on all the faces Sam could see. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and said his brother's name in a clear voice.

"Dean."

Dean opened his eyes.

As the doctors gasped, Dean turned his head in Sam's direction, and Sam had never been happier to see Dean's ridiculously green eyes.

"Sam?"

Sam smiled. Dean was alive. He was awake. He was going to be okay.

The last thing he heard was his brother calling his name before Sam fell into a dark but blissful unconsciousness.

**

* * *

TBC… **


	3. It's Okay for Sam to Be the Big Brother

**The New Big Brother **

– – **Chapter Three – –**

"_Sometimes, It's Okay for Sam to Be the Big Brother"_

_Come on, Sammy. You've almost got it. Just pull a little bit harder."_

_Sam pulled as hard as he could on the fishing pole, holding on for dear life as he felt the line slip out a bit farther._

"_Come on, Sammy. You can do it. Don't let it get away!"_

_Sam yanked and he felt the line jerk in closer to him._

"_Come on, Sam. You're almost there."_

_Sam tugged harder. The line pulled in slowly, and he cranked the reel to hold on tight to it._

"_Alright, Sam. One more tug. On the count of three pull as hard as you can. Ready?"_

_Sam nodded his head in response and prepared to tug._

"_One, two, THREE!"_

_Sam yanked the line as hard as he could, and his eyes lit up as a small silver fish came shooting out of the water. He let out a cry of happiness and swung the pole around to get the fish over land. He watched in fascination as the fish, suspended in midair from the end of his line, swung quickly over the surface of the water, made its way over the sand of the beach, and landed with a moist plop smack in the middle of his brother's face._

_Dean let out a cry of indignation as the fish flopped around in his face, and his hands went up to swat it away. "Sam! Get this thing out of my face!"_

_The smile left Sam's face as he moved his rod away from his brother, sending the fish past his head. He was afraid he had made him mad._

_Then he saw the grin on his brother's face, and Sam's face lit up as Dean started laughing. Sam quickly joined in, giggling insanely as he took in the sight of Dean's face, covered in a wet, slimy mess, his hair dripping water down his face._

"_Dean, you look so funny!" Sam said between giggles._

"_Oh, haha, Sammy, I wonder why. Maybe it's because my little brother just slapped me in the face with a FISH!"_

_The two brothers fell into a fit of laughter, the fish flopping gently on the end of Sam's line, for the moment forgotten. Dean wiped at his face with his hand, which only served to spread the mess around and make Sam laugh harder._

"_Oh, you think that's funny, do you? My face all covered in fish goo?"_

_Sam couldn't answer him; he was laughing so hard._

"_Well, we'll just see who gets the last laugh." Dean lunged for his brother with a playful growl, and on instinct Sam swung the pole around, and Dean yelped as he got another faceful of flopping fish._

_Sam thought his sides would split from the laughter._

"_Oh that's it, Sammy. You're toast. Your little fish friend can't save you from my ultimate weapon."_

_Sam's eyes grew wide as an evil grin spread over his brother's face._

"_No…not…you can't-"_

"_Oh yeah, Sammy. You know what it is. Better start running," Dean threatened, bursting out into an incredibly cheesy maniacal laugh._

_Sam shrieked, dropped his pole, and was off like a shot, running as fast as his little legs would carry him up the sand._

_Dean smiled and started after him. Seconds later, he playfully tackled his little brother to the ground, ignoring Sam's squeaky pleas of, "Please! No tickles!"_

_Dean laughed as he turned his brother over and attacked his stomach with his hands, tickling him ruthlessly. Sam started giggling loudly, his hands fighting helplessly to stop his brother from tickling him to death._

"_Dean! Quit it!" he laughed, shrieking loudly._

_Dean continued his onslaught, laughing as his brother writhed beneath him, giggling uncontrollably. Sam stopped swatting at his big brother's hands._

"_I surrender! I surrender!" he shrieked between giggles._

_Dean smiled, letting up on the tickle attack. They lay on the sand for a bit, until Sam's laughter had died down._

"_Oh, Sam. You know you're no match for my ultimate weapon."_

_Sam just laughed, and Dean continued to smile._

_  
Suddenly a look of wonder passed over Sam's face._

"_My fish!" he shouted, suddenly remembering what had caused the tickle attack in the first place. He jumped up and ran down the sand toward the fish, which was lying still on the ground. His first fish._

_Dean came up behind him. "Jeez, Sammy. Look at the size of this thing. It's huge!"_

_A look of confusion passed over Sam's face. "It's not that big."_

"_Of course it is!" Dean replied. "It's massive!"_

"_But your fish is so much bigger than mine," Sam said, staring at the fish that Dean had caught earlier that day._

"_Well, I've had a bit more practice than you have, Sammy. Trust me. In a few years you'll be able to catch even bigger fish."_

_Sam smiled. "Really?"_

"_You bet," Dean replied with a grin._

_Sam's smile widened as he thought of all the big fish he would be able to catch in just a few years._

"_Now, what do you say I show you how to clean this up, and we'll give you another shot?"_

"_Cool."_

_The two brothers knelt down in the soft, warm sand, and Dean taught Sam how to get the fish off the hook._

Sam sighed happily, trying to hold on to the sight that started to slowly slip away from him. The vision faded away, and Sam opened his eyes wearily, blinking as a harsh, bright light invaded his sleep worn eyes. Sam frowned as he tried to hold on to the dream he had been having.

He remembered that day vividly. It was one of his happiest. He had been six and his brother ten. Dean was teaching him how to catch fish. Dad had taught Dean when Sam was just a little baby, and now Dean was passing on the knowledge, as he would continue to pass on more knowledge when he got older. They were by the lake outside the cabin they were staying in. It was the only real vacation he could remember having with his family.

As his eyes began to adjust to the light, Sam felt the all too familiar feeling of waking and not knowing where he was. As a kid, with all the moving around they had done, he was used to waking up in strange new places and strange new beds. As he took in his surroundings, he recognized the harsh, white walls…the mechanical beeping…the sterile smell…and the hard feel of a not-so-comfortable bed.

A hospital. He was in a hospital. But why was he-

Suddenly, his memories came flooding back, hitting him hard.

The cabin.

His father…possessed.

Dean bleeding.

The car getting hit with a semi.

His father…dead.

The truck driver's body hitting the ground.

Dean dying.

Dean coming back.

Waking up in the hospital, hearing the news about his brother.

Dean flatlining in the ER.

Dean…dead.

Sam moaned as his head swam with the painful onslaught of a thousand bad memories and feelings flinging themselves on him at once. He reached up a hand to touch his forehead, feeling tubes and wires stretch as he flexed his arm. He never reached his head, however. His arm fell back down. He felt so weak…so tired. He started panting, afraid.

Then he heard a gentle voice reach past the haze surrounding him.

"Hey, Sam. It's okay. You're fine. It'll pass in a minute. The drugs are just making you a bit drowsy."

Sam slowly turned his head toward the voice and saw the female EMT standing next to him, smiling gently.

"Wha…"

"Just relax. It'll be fine."

Sam was too tired to protest, and he closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing down.

He lay there for a few minutes, and slowly the haze began to lift. He was breathing slowly and steadily and the fogginess in his head had dissipated. He opened his eyes and was happy to see that the room had stopped spinning.

"There. What'd I tell ya?"

Sam looked at the woman, slowly remembering who she was. She was at the crash site…in the ER….

"How do you feel, Sam?"

Honestly, aside from a dull ache in his ribs, a small sting on his right cheek, and an overall feeling of extreme tiredness, Sam didn't feel too bad. Apparently the accident-

"Dean," Sam croaked, his throat dry. "How's my brother?"

Sam's heart lifted as the woman continued to smile at him. "He's going to be fine, Sam. Do you remember what happened?"

Sam frowned, trying to remember. He had been in the ER…Dean was dead, the heart monitor showing a steady flat line…Sam was crying…he felt helpless...he had reached out with his mind, willing his brother to come back to him…he had collapsed on the floor…the monitor had blipped…the doctors had looked astounded…then Dean's eyes had opened and he had turned toward Sam, eyes shining brightly, as he weakly called his name…then everything had gone black.

Sam smiled. Dean was alive.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said in response to the smile on Sam's face.

"What happened?" he croaked out, drawn out of his reverie by her voice.

"You passed out on the floor after your brother came back. Some doctors came over to check on you. You seemed okay. We figure the whole ordeal took a lot out of you. You had a lot of adrenaline rushing through you while you were worrying over your brother, and once you realized he was okay, the adrenaline left and the extent of your fatigue and injuries became apparent to your body. Your ribs were fairly bruised, but not broken. You had a few cuts on your face, probably from flying glass from the crash. We were afraid you might have a concussion, but it seems you didn't suffer any head trauma. Mostly you were just exhausted. They hooked you up and put you to bed. You've been out for four days."

"Four days?" Sam questioned.

"It's not uncommon, especially after an accident of that magnitude. We were all a bit surprised that you were conscious as long as you were. Most people…well, most people wouldn't be."

"Dean?"

"Most of the doctors called it a miracle. Some of them called it determination. A strong will. Some of them called it sheer luck. But your brother came through it. He was concerned for you when he saw you pass out, but when the doctors decided you seemed okay, I told him you were going to be fine. He nodded before he fell unconscious. But his heart and breathing kept up a steady pace. He was stabilized enough that we could get him into surgery. He suffered massive blood loss, mostly through deep gouges in his stomach which the doctors are still at a lose to explain…."

She said the last bit with a hint of accusation in her voice, but she continued. "He was bleeding internally, too, probably from the car crash."

Sam winced, knowing that the internal bleeding must have also been caused by the demon.

"He slammed his head fairly hard on his window. There was blood spattered on the backseat. We were afraid he may have suffered head trauma, too, though it appears he was as lucky as you were. We patched him up in surgery and inserted a chest tube to get the internal blood out. We've given him a lot of blood transfusions. I actually checked on him a few minutes ago. Thought I'd stop by and check on you. The chest tube should be ready to come out soon. He came around once, asking about you. You were still unconscious, but they assured him you'd be fine. They put him back to sleep. He's sleeping right now. He's going to need a lot of relaxation and bed rest in order for his external and internal wounds to heal. Like I said, it's been four days, and we can honestly tell you that he is going to make it through this. We have no reason to believe he won't. He's healing well. You should be able to see him soon. I may even be able to convince them to move him to your room."

Sam listened to her explanation, but his mind seemed only to register the most important facts. 'A miracle…lucky…we can honestly tell you that he is going to make it through this…we have no reason to believe he won't…you should be able to see him soon.'

Sam smiled as the sheer magnitude of what she was telling him sank in. Dean was alive. He was going to be okay. They were going to make it through this. Dean was going to be pissed about the lots of relaxation and bed rest idea once he came around, but he'd get over it. Sam would make sure of that.

"Your brother has a strong will to live, Sam. Real determination. Love. He'll come out of this in time. He's a strong fighter."

Sam laughed lightly. She had no idea…

"Sam…."

Sam frowned when she hesitated, her smile replaced by a look of sadness.

"Do you know what happened to your father?"

"Dad," Sam whispered, suddenly remembering what had happened. He had been so caught up in thinking about his brother, he had forgotten about his father. "He's gone," he croaked, his eyes looking to her for confirmation.

"Yes. I'm afraid so. The doctors are…they believe he died on impact. He was closest to the truck when it hit…I'm so sorry."

Sam could only lie there, fighting back tears, as he thought about his father. That's it. He was really gone. He had begged Sam to kill him, to destroy the demon they had spent their whole lives hunting. But Sam had learned something in the past year…one of many things his big brother had taught him. Family was what mattered. Family was the most important thing. He had spared his father's life, only to have it snatched away from him minutes later by a stupid truck. His father, the strongest fighter and hunter he had known aside from his brother, died in a stupid car crash. Not fighting some dark evil that was hell bent on destroying countless families like theirs, but in a wreck of twisted metal and broken glass. Sam couldn't believe he was gone. Did Dean even know? Sam had told him after the crash, but could he remember?

"Dean…does he…does he remember what happened?"

"I don't know, Sam. He hasn't really been awake long enough to tell us. Did you ever tell him?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's possible he remembers. We can't know for sure until we ask him, and well…we figured it would be best if you brought it up."

"God," Sam choked out, his voice full of emotion as he felt warm tears slide gently down his face. Sam wasn't looking forward to possibly having to tell Dean that dreadful news yet again. It had been hard enough the first time…

"Oh, Sam. I'm so sorry," she said. Sam caught the hint of tears forming in her eyes, and he was too tired to wonder at why she seemed so affected by what had happened to him. He felt himself growing tired again under the weight of the mixed emotions of grief and relief he was feeling.

"Go back to sleep, Sam. You need to rest." She gently laid a hand on his forehead and smiled, her eyes watery.

Sam closed his eyes, and his thoughts shifted from his father to Dean. His brother was alive. He was going to live. Sam missed his father horribly. He would always miss him. But for right now, he tried to focus on Dean. They were going to make it through this loss. Their father would not die in vain. They would grieve…and then they would honor him. They would continue to fight the good fight. And along the way, Sam was going to make damn sure that he and his brother took advantage of Dean's second chance and made some more happy memories to add to the few that he had from his childhood. They were going to get through this. It was hard, but they would do it.

They were Winchesters after all.

Sam drifted off to sleep, thinking about his brother and his father.

"_Hey, Sammy, come on out here! We're gonna make s'mores!"_

_Little Sammy looked out the sliding glass door of the cabin and smiled at the sight of his daddy and his big brother sitting on logs around a campfire, squishing marshmallows onto sticks. Sam hurried outside. He grabbed the stick Dean offered him, sat down between his father and his brother, and stuck the stick out near the fire. He looked up into his daddy's face and was happy to see him smiling._

_John Winchester reached down and gently rubbed his son's head, laughing along with Dean when he pulled his hand away and Sam's hair stood up on end. Someday he was going to give his son a proper haircut._

"_What's so funny?" Sam asked, confused at their sudden outburst._

"_Nothing, kiddo. Nothing at all," John replied._

_Sam continued to look confused, and when they continued laughing, he simply joined in. John reached down and fixed his son's hair as best as he could._

"_Daddy, your mushmellow's on fire."_

_John looked at his stick and saw the end burning brightly. He pulled it away from the flames and blew on it. The flame went out, leaving behind a crusty, blackened shell that used to be a marshmallow._

"_Opps," he said. "Oh well, shouldn't let it go to waste." He blew on it loudly then shoved the black mess, stick and all, into his mouth. He pulled it away to show a gooey remainder still stuck on the stick._

"_Ewwwwwww," Sam said, looking disgusted._

"_Gross, Dad."_

"_You think that's gross?" John opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue._

"_Ewwwwww," both his sons replied._

_John laughed as he swallowed the mess in his throat._

"_Hey, Dad," Dean said. "I'll bet I can make mine look even grosser."_

_And then it was a mad dash between Dean and Sam to see who could get their marshmallow into their mouth first and open wide._

_It was a tie._

_It quickly turned into a mad dash to see who could stuff the most marshmallows into his mouth and still be able to talk._

_John, naturally, won. Though Dean gave him a run for his money._

_It quickly devolved into a burping contest._

_Sam packed a surprising punch._

_Then it became a marshmallow throwing fight._

_John smiled. This was the first time he had really sat down and taught his children the finer points of simply being boys. He was going to try his hardest for this short amount of time to teach them everything he knew._

Back in the hospital, the woman standing next to Sam's side watched as a peaceful smile passed over his face. She smiled and left Sam to his dreams.

Sam continued to smile as the dream played out. That vacation may have been their last together, but John Winchester had certainly left a lasting impression on his boys.

He had made sure they would remember it forever.

Dean would never again lose a mouth-stuffing contest.

* * *

Sam sighed in contentment as another good dream slowly faded away from him. He wasn't sure if this one was something that had really happened to him or not. He had felt very young and very small… and greatly loved. 

His Mom had tucked him gently into his crib and left the room, returning a while later carrying Dean in her arms. Sam knew it was Dean, though he could hardly remember him being so small. She had smiled as she put him down on the floor. Dean had run over to Sam's crib, a smile bright on his small face, and leaned over the bars to give Sam a light kiss on the forehead, saying happily, "Night, Sam." His mother had come over then and gently touched his head, copying Dean's kiss as she whispered, "Good night, love."

Then Sam had heard his Dad's voice say, "Hey, Dean," and he had seen him standing in the doorway, a smile wider than any Sam had ever seen on his face. Dean had run over to their father, happily crying, "Daddy!" and leaping into John's wide-open arms. John had lifted his son high up into the air saying, "Hey buddy." Sam watched as his father held his older brother close and asked him if he thought Sam was ready to toss around a football yet, to which Dean had shook his head and laughed, saying, "No, Daddy." He watched as his mother walked past the happy sight, making sure that John would handle putting little Dean to bed. Sam had looked happily at his father as he had smiled at him from the doorway and said, "Sweet dreams, Sammy," before leaving the room and turning the light off. Sam had turned his head toward the ceiling, giggling happily and shoving his tiny legs into the air as the mobile above his head began to turn and play a gentle, soothing tune.

That was when Sam was slowly pulled away from his dream into the waking world. Sam opened his eyes and blinked slowly in the bright, white light.

"Well, it's about time you woke up, Sleeping Beauty. Thought I might have to resort to paying someone to kiss you."

Sam smiled as he recognized the sound of Dean's voice. He turned his head to the left and found Dean lying on a bed near him, a small smile on his lips.

"Ouch, Dean. That hurt," Sam replied, playing along.

"Yeah, well, truth does, Sammy. I sure as hell wasn't going to kiss you."

Sam laughed lightly at his brother's joke and the smile on his face. He missed this. The joking around, the playful insults. It felt like so long since they had been able to do this.

Sam continued to stare at his brother, taking in his appearance. He was sitting up slightly in the bed. There was a mass of tubes and IV's spread over his body, and he could see thick bandages covering his chest under the paisley green nightgown he was wearing. He looked paler than usual and more tired, and Sam would bet his left arm that Dean was not happy in his new outfit, but the sight of Dean alive and breathing was more than Sam could have hoped for.

"Dude, didn't anyone ever tell you not to stare at people?"

Sam shook himself out of his stupor. "Sorry, Dean. You never were a very good role model in the manners department," Sam replied with a grin.

Dean laughed, and Sam felt his heart soar at the sound. Dean smirked and replied, "Yeah, you got a point there."

Sam laughed again.

Yeah, his brother was going to be just fine.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

Sam paused, unsure about whether or not he wanted to change the mood a bit. But then, if Dean was back to being himself, he figured he wouldn't get many chances to say anything.

"I'm really glad you're okay, man. I almost lost you."

Sam waited to see how Dean would react, hoping that maybe just once, Dean would go along with him.

And for once, he did.

"I'm right here, Sam. I'm not leaving anytime soon."

Sam smiled. "Good."

Dean continued to look at him, and since he wasn't pushing him away yet, Sam thought he would try and talk to him.

"Dean, can I ask you something?" he asked, a questioning look replacing his smile.

"Sure, Sam."

"What…I mean…did you really…what happened when you…." Sam swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "What happened when you came back?"

Sam could tell Dean was going to push him away this time. "Sammy, I don't want to-"

"Dean, please. I heard you…I heard you…call out for Mom."

Dean sighed, his gaze turning toward the ceiling.

"Dean, please," Sam begged. "Just talk to me?"

Sam watched Dean blink a few times, and he was surprised to see tears forming in his brother's eyes. He didn't let them fall, though. He closed his eyes, like he was willing himself to stop. Then he turned once more to face Sam. Sam just stared at him, quietly begging him to open up, for once, and just let him in.

Sam didn't even have to pull the face this time. Dean sighed and closed his eyes. He had been so close to dying. So close to leaving his brother behind. So close to…resting. Rest, and sleep, and peace. But Sam had needed him. Sam needed him now. And since Dean could rarely deny his brother what he asked for, he decided, for once, to let go of his pride, let down his walls, and let his brother in.

"I was…it was really loud. I was in the ER, but…I wasn't really there. Maybe. I don't know. But…there was a lot of noise, a lot of movement. Everything was so clear. I was standing there next to this group of doctors who were huddled around…something. I couldn't tell what it was…it was too blurry. Then I…I saw you come bursting in the door. You looked…you were upset. I…I wanted to…I opened my mouth, I wanted to tell you I was there, that I was fine. But nothing came out. I couldn't move. All I could do was stare at you. This woman came over to you and brought you off to the side of the room, and you were staring at the doctors who were working on…me. I suddenly realized it was me…I just…I didn't want to admit it. Didn't want to admit that I was dead and that I had failed you. I saw you…just standing there. Looking so…."

"Then everything started going fuzzy. Things blurred together and I felt like I was being pulled away…from you…from everything. I tried to call out again, but nothing happened. And then…then everything got really…quiet…and peaceful. The noise disappeared, the movement…things got fuzzier and…brighter…but not painful bright. More like…peaceful bright. I couldn't feel anything. And then…I……"

Sam watched Dean close his eyes tightly, swallowing hard, and he knew his brother was fighting back tears. Dean turned his head away from Sam, toward the ceiling. He looked like he was somewhere else, far away in his thoughts.

"Mom. Mom was there. I could see her. She was…she was dressed the same way she was when we…when we saw her in our old house. But she looked…happy. So happy. And so peaceful. I was just…so happy to see her, I couldn't think of much else. I just know that I didn't want to leave. I could feel something pulling me toward her…it's hard to explain. I just knew that I wanted… I wanted to go where she was…I wanted to let this feeling just…take me away. I had felt so tired, so weak before, and now…I just wanted to…rest…be at peace. Then she…she talked to me. I don't remember much of what she said. But she said…she said it wasn't my time yet. She told me…I had so much else left to do. She said…she said…."

Tears started to fall down Sam's face as he watched his brother struggle for words. Dean swallowed hard.

"She said you needed me. I was so tired, Sam. So ready to just…move on…to sleep forever and ever and never wake up. But…she said you needed me. And then I…I just knew. She was right. I couldn't leave yet. Not when…not when you still needed me. I remembered, after the crash, you had told me that you needed me to stay, and I…I couldn't go, Sam. Things started…things started blurring back. The brightness just disappeared and I could see the room again. Mom was still there…standing next to me…smiling at me. I told her…I told her I wanted to go back, but I…I didn't know how. She put her hand on my arm and told me to concentrate. To just…focus on how much I wanted to stay. I tried, Sam. I tried. But…I don't know, I guess it just wasn't enough…I felt so far gone. And then…then I…."

Dean sniffled, and Sam watched as Dean quickly rubbed at his eyes, which were threatening to run over.

"I heard you, Sam. I felt this…connection, I guess you could call it. And I heard you tell me not to leave…that you needed me…that you…."

Dean didn't have to say it. Sam remembered what he had told him. _I love you._

Dean continued.

"I heard you, Sam, and I…I focused harder on how much I wanted to answer you…how much I wanted to just open my eyes and tell you I was okay and that I wasn't going to leave…that I would never leave. And I guess…I guess it worked. I felt the warmth slip away…the peace…the quiet…I felt cold…I could feel…everything started to hurt…and Mom. Mom…she…she smiled at me, she told me everything was going to be okay. She squeezed my arm gently, and then…she let go. I felt myself slipping away from her…felt the room start spinning, everything going hazy. Everything hurt. I…I didn't want her to leave…I didn't…I wanted her to stay. But…she was gone…and then…I came back. And well…."

Dean turned back to him.

"You remember the rest, don't you?"

Sam nodded, not trusting himself to be able to speak properly.

Dean looked back to the ceiling, and a silence settled down between them. They both lay there, not saying anything, for a long time.

Finally, Sam broke the silence.

"Dean, I hope I didn't…I mean, if you were…happy…I hope I didn't…I'm sorry I pulled you away from that."

Dean jerked his head around to face Sam and spoke quickly and vehemently. "Don't, Sam. Don't. You didn't pull me away from anything. I mean, yeah, it was…it felt nice. But…as much as I wanted it…I wanted to be here more. You needed me, and I could never be at peace knowing that. I wanted to come back, Sam. You helped me. You didn't force me to do anything I didn't want to. You got that?"

Now this was more like the Dean he knew and loved. Sam smiled.

"Yeah, Dean. I got it."

"Good. 'Cause I'm not gonna have you feeling guilty over the fact that I'm alive. You should be bowing down to me and kissing my ass."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, sure Dean. Whatever you say."

Dean smirked. "Well, at the very least you should be happy."

Sam smiled. "I am happy, Dean."

"Yeah. I know you are, Sam. I actually figured that one out."

"Wow, all on your own, huh? Somebody call the papers."

"Oh, very funny smartass."

Their beds were close enough together, and Dean reached his arm out and smacked Sam upside his head, causing Sam to start laughing. Dean quickly joined in.

"Hey guys, what's so funny?"

The boys turned their heads toward the voice, and Sam saw the female EMT standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Rose. Look who finally decided to wake up," Dean said, inclining his head toward Sam.

"Rose?" Sam questioned. He suddenly realized that he had never learned her name.

"Yeah. Sorry, Sam. Guess I forgot to mention my name. Everything was…a bit crazy."

Sam laughed. "That's a bit of an understatement."

Rose laughed in return as she entered the room.

"Rose has been keeping me company while you've been asleep," Dean said.

"You slept for awhile again. Three days," Rose told him.

"Three days?"

"Yeah."

"How long have you been awake, Dean?" Sam asked his brother.

"Off and on for the past few days. Things were starting to get a bit uneventful around here. Though I have to say, Sam, the nurses here are…well, let's just say they're hotter than the nurses at the last hospital I stayed in." Sam grinned as Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Rose.

Rose didn't even flinch. "I'm an EMT, not a nurse. And you should know by now that your wiles don't work on me."

Dean pouted at her. "How could you possibly be immune to this?" he said, gesturing at himself.

"I have eyes," she retorted, a smile on her face. Sam could tell she was trying hard not to laugh.

"Ouch. I'm hurt," Dean said, clutching his heart and fluttering his lashes at the ceiling.

"Drama queen."

The room filled with laughter.

"Well, Dean, you do look a bit ridiculous in those pajamas," said Sam.

Dean looked down at himself, and when he looked up again he had an all-too-familiar pissed off look on his face. "Thanks for reminding me, Sam."

"Any time, Dean."

"But in case you haven't noticed, you're wearing the exact same thing I am."

Sam realized he was right. Busted.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam smiled at how easily they were able to slip back into being just brothers.

Suddenly, without warning, Dean let out an enormous yawn.

"What's the matter, old man? Time for your nap?" Sam quipped.

"Actually, that's probably a good idea," Rose said. "You really need your rest, Dean."

"Who are you, my mother?" asked Dean through another yawn.

"No, actually, I'm your friend. Or… at least…." Sam noticed Rose clam up and blush in embarrassment. But as quickly as it had appeared, the blush was gone. "Well, technically I'm a sort-of-doctor, and it's my medical opinion that you need to sleep."

Sam knew this tactic. He'd seen it a lot in his brother. She had let her guard down, and she was trying to cover up the feelings she had let slip.

Dean took pity on her predicament and broke the awkward silence by going along with her request.

"Five more minutes?"

Well, almost going along with her.

Rose covered up her shyness with a firm laugh. "Sure, five more minutes. Then you should try and get some more sleep. I don't want to have to tell the doctors to separate you two because you were keeping each other awake all day."

"No problem," Dean said with a smirk.

"Well…I'll leave you guys alone."

Rose turned and headed toward the door, but Sam stopped her.

"Rose?"

She turned around and looked at him.

"Yeah?"

"Will you come back sometime? Before we leave, I mean. I know we'll probably be here awhile. Well, Dean will anyway."

"Hey!" Dean shouted in indignation.

Sam smiled and continued. "It's just that…I have some things I…I wanted to ask you about…about what happened…that night."

Sam knew he had felt something that night of the car crash. Somehow, she had been able to calm him down when no one and nothing else could. At the crash site, in the ER. He had gotten a strange feeling from her, and he was mildly curious about it.

Rose frowned at him. "Sure, Sam," she said, and Sam was sad to find that she didn't sound very convincing.

This time, Rose broke the awkward silence. She glanced at Dean. "Five minutes," she said, pointing a reprimanding finger at him and grinning.

"Yes, sir!" Dean said with a mock salute.

Rose rolled her eyes and Sam could hear her laugh as she left the room.

After a few seconds, Dean spoke. "So," he said, a hint of suggestion in his voice. "You have some questions about what happened that night, huh?" Dean said with a smirk, raising his eyebrows.

Sam would have thrown his pillow at Dean's head if it wasn't the only thing he had that made the bed comfortable. He settled for a simple retort.

"Do you ever think with your upstairs brain, Dean?"

"Hey man, what can I say? I live in a gutter."

Sam laughed at first, then brought the conversation back to serious.

"It's just that…I don't know. She has this…effect on people. On me anyway. It's just…whenever she was around, I felt…I don't know…"

"Calm?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah."

"I've noticed it, too, Sammy."

"It's like some kind of force field or something. I was so upset over…that night. I was…angry. Really angry."

"I heard about your little…tantrums," Dean said delicately. "Screaming, yelling, breaking stuff…without touching it."

"Yeah."

"You've got most of the doctors in this place freaked, Sam. Every time they come in here to check on you they look like they've seen a ghost. They speed through whatever they have to do and run out in a hurry. You've gotten quite a reputation around here."

Sam didn't know what else to say except, "Yeah."

"Sammy…"

Sam looked up at him.

"I'm so proud of you," Dean said with a sniffle, his voice dripping with mock affection.

Sam looked at his brother.

He had _totally_ seen that one coming.

He grinned and laughed. "Go to sleep, Dean."

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I gotta ask you something."

Sam looked at him in confusion, wondering what it could be.

"Sure, man. What is it?"

"You do…you know…you know about Dad, right?"

Sam felt his heart fall out of chest. Suddenly the happy, warm feeling in the room was sucked out and replaced with a hard, cold, empty one. A hard lump formed in Sam's throat. He swallowed.

"So you know then? That Dad's…d-"

"Sam, don't."

"Dean?"

"Some people came in while you were out. They asked me about…the crash. The doctors tried to get them to go away. Said I wasn't ready for an interrogation. But…I just wanted to get it over with, you know? I told them what I could about the accident, made some stuff up to explain…the truck driver. They never found the Colt. I don't know what happened to it."

Dean paused, and Sam waited for him to continue.

"The doctors didn't have to tell me about…about Dad. I remembered. I asked them what…what was going to happen to…to his…to him. They told me some people would come in at some point so I could…make arrangements. Dad always said…he said I was in charge of everything in case…in case something happened. Dad had wills written up under all of our fake names that leave everything to me…to us. They showed up yesterday…."

Sam tried hard not to cry at the broken, lost look that had suddenly surfaced on Dean's face. He hated seeing his big brother like this. He was always the strong one. Sometimes Sam wished he _would_ show emotion and share his feelings more. But then, on those few occasions when he did, his emotions and feelings made him seem ten times more vulnerable, and it killed Sam inside to see him like that.

Dean was always the one being strong for Sam.

Now Sam would try and return the favor.

"What did you tell them?"

"Chelsea, Kansas. Next to Mom's memorial."

Sam held back tears.

"Do you remember Chelsea?" Dean asked.

"No."

"Well, Dad had wanted…wanted to give Mom a memorial. For our sake, I guess. Not for his own. He didn't want to bury an empty casket, so he just had a small stone put up with her name on it. 'Loving mother and wife.' He put it up in Chelsea Cemetery in Chelsea, Kansas. Back before…before Mom died…we used to go for a week every summer to a cabin by the lake in El Dorado State Park. I barely remember that place with Mom there, but Dad said they went there every year before I was born, and they kept going after. Dad taught me a lot up there. Taught me how to play football, how to fish…. You went once during the summer when…when Mom died…and once more when you were…I don't know, six? Anyway, according to Dad every year he and Mom would visit this little town called Chelsea next to the lake. It was a tiny place, a township more than a town. But Mom loved it. She liked the small town feel…the intimacy…the sense of community and closeness. We all went there the year…in '83…but I don't remember it. After Mom died Dad brought us there once to see it. I don't remember that either. We never went back. But Dad always told me…he told me that that's where he wanted…where he wanted to be…buried. When he died. Next to where Mom…where Mom should have been if…."

Dean broke off and lay there in silence. Sam watched him, wondering if he wanted to talk anymore.

After a minute, he spoke again.

"So yeah. I told them. They made the arrangements. Dad's gonna be buried there in a few days. I know we won't be there to see it, but…I don't even know if…"

Sam watched as a few tears escaped Dean's eyes. Sam tried hard to stem the flow of his own tears, but a few escaped. As he watched tears fall silently down Dean's face, as Dean did nothing to try and stop them, Sam felt like he had to say something. But he was at a lose.

"Dean, it's gonna be okay."

"Sam…I can't…"

"It's okay."

Slowly, Sam reached out his arm, bridging the gap between himself and Dean. He laid his hand gently on his brother's arm. Dean didn't pull away. He just continued to stare at the ceiling, tears slowly falling.

Sam's heart ached when Dean spoke again.

"I can't believe he's gone, Sammy," Dean whispered, his voice breaking.

Sam couldn't say anything. He couldn't think. All he could feel was an empty feeling in his chest where he heart was supposed to be. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to tell him that the two of them, together, could make it through this.

"Dean…I don't know…it hurts. It hurts a lot. It'll…it'll never really go away…the hurt. But…we have each other. We can get through anything. I mean, look what we've been through in the past year alone."

Sam watched as a small smile spread over Dean's face.

"Yeah, we've been through hell," Dean said quietly.

"And we always come back."

Sam watched as his brother continued to stare at the ceiling. Sam kept his hand on Dean's arm. A simple gesture meant to comfort and reassure his brother that he was still with him, and he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

After a minute, Dean let out a loud sigh. His tears had stopped flowing and he hadn't said a word. He turned to Sam, tears drying on his face.

"Thank you."

Sam smiled gently, his own tears long dry. He squeezed Dean's arm gently.

"You're welcome."

The action seemed to draw Dean back. He gently drew his arm out from under Sam's hand, turned his head to the side away from him, and quickly rubbed at his face. Sam pulled his arm back, smiling at his brother's futile attempt to hide.

When Dean turned back to him, all signs that he had been crying moments ago were gone. Well, aside from the obvious red eyes and most likely stuffed nose. He could tell that Dean was trying to figure out how to draw the conversation back to normal and get Sam to forget what had just transpired. Sam decided to help him out.

"Dean, you look like crap. I think it's time for your nap, old man."

Dean feigned surprise. "Dude, didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?"

Sam smiled. "What can I say, man? I had a crappy teacher."

Dean shook his head, laughing. "Yeah, sure."

Sam watched Dean move the back of the bed down with a button. The bed moved down a little ways and stopped. Dean realigned himself, and Sam noticed a look of pain flash quickly over his face before disappearing. Dean settled down and closed his eyes. Sam thought he was ready to comply.

"Hey, Sam? How about a little daytime TV first, huh?"

"Dean…" Sam said warningly. He had the look on his face that meant it was time to stop screwing around, drop the subject, and listen. It was another look Dean was hard pressed to ignore. Dean's eyes were closed, but Sam was fairly certain Dean could feel the look through his eyelids as he smiled and replied, "Sure, Sammy. Whatever you say."

Sam lay there for a few minutes, watching his brother drift off into a quiet slumber. Finally he heard him breathing softly and slowly. Sam turned his head up toward the ceiling. He didn't feel tired. He'd been asleep for a week. He looked around him for a buzzer that would call a nurse in. He found it on a table next to his bed and pushed it.

A nurse came in a few minutes later, looking slightly nervous when she found out it was him who had buzzed. Dean was right. He really had spooked the hospital.

To her credit, the nurse put on a very professional attitude as she looked him over, checked on his machines and tubes and injuries. Finally, she told him that she would get a doctor to come in, give him a full exam, and let him know how he was doing and when he'd be able to get out. Then she had hurried out of the room faster than Sam would have guessed she could move.

Sam sighed and turned his attention once more to the ceiling.

He and Dean were going to be bored shitless by tomorrow.

* * *

For the next three weeks, Sam and Dean remained in the hospital. 

For the two brothers, those three weeks felt like an eternity.

After being checked on by his doctor, Sam was given the news that he was healing very well, and he would be able to leave the hospital in a matter of days. During that time, some men came in to question him about the accident. Sam told them everything his brother had already made up. They looked skeptical, but they accepted the story, and they hadn't come back since.

Apparently, the gun had never been found.

When he was released from the hospital a few days later, Sam went out to see what could be done about the car. He brought it to Bobby, and when Bobby agreed that it was fixable, they settled on a price. A considerably small price.

It felt nice to have friends in high places.

Sam returned to the hospital to give Dean the news that his baby was being fixed up, and that they should be able to drive it in a couple months. Dean was…ecstatic to say the least.

After that, Sam stayed by Dean's bedside. As he had predicted, Dean was bored to tears. The doctors said he needed at least a month to recover, but when Dean begged them to let him leave sooner, they agreed. Quite easily, in fact. Aside from the fact that Dean was driving the hospital staff nuts, Sam was pretty sure he himself had something to do with the fact that they were happy to get rid of them as soon as possible.

So for the next two and half weeks, Sam kept his brother company. Dean slept quite a bit, and when he wasn't sleeping the two of them tried their best to not die of boredom. Dean had been right about daytime TV. Fortunately, he had also been right about the nurses. Sam smiled as Dean flirted with one after the other.

After what felt like months, the doctors finally agreed to let him leave, on the condition that he continue to take a fairly large arrangement of pills, drink plenty of water, stay away from alcohol, get plenty of sleep, and follow a variety of other typical healing methods. Sam, of course, made Dean swear to the doctors that he would follow their orders. He also made Dean promise him the same. Dean made the promise to his brother, and Sam vowed to make sure he kept it.

As for Rose, Sam asked around for her a bit over the three weeks, but the doctors said that, as an EMT, she was rarely in the hospital. Sam knew she was avoiding him. She had seemed reluctant, even scared, to discuss what had happened. And honestly, Sam couldn't really blame her.

Finally, the day arrived.

It was time to leave.

Sam had already brought out all of their things, including a fistful of prescriptions for Dean's meds, and finished up all the paperwork. Dean was getting dressed.

Suddenly, Sam heard a quiet curse behind him and turned toward Dean. Sam saw his brother struggling to get into his T-shirt. Sam knew his injuries were still hurting, but as usual Dean had tried to cover up.

Sam walked toward him and put his hands out to help him.

"I'm fine, Sam. Just let me do it," Dean said, swatting at Sam's arms.

Sam sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for his stubborn brother to do it himself. Dean rolled his eyes at the ceiling and smiled, but he was able to gently ease the shirt on. When he had his jacket on over it, he looked up at Sam.

"See?" he said with a smirk. "Told ya."

Sam rolled his eyes at the ceiling. His brother would never stop being a stubborn pain in the ass.

Dean continued to smirk at Sam when, suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Sam turned toward the door, a look of confusion on his face.

"Come in," he said.

The knob turned and the door opened slowly, revealing-

"Rose. Hey. It's uh…it's good to see you," Sam said, surprised that she had come back.

She smiled shyly at the two of them.

"I just…I wanted to say goodbye to you guys. It's gonna be really quiet around here with you two gone. And I can tell you there are a few nurses around here who are gonna miss you."

Dean came up next to Sam.

"I knew it," Dean said, smirking. "Some of them just couldn't take their eyes off me, huh?"

Rose's shy smile quickly turned into a grin.

"Dean, when did I say it was _you_ there were going to miss?"

Dean raised his eyebrows to the ceiling, slightly shocked. But then he smiled at her.

"Touché."

Sam and Rose laughed.

"Well, I should let you two head out. I know you want to get out of here."

"Oh god, yes," Dean said.

Rose just smiled and rolled her eyes. Then she walked over to Dean. There was an awkward pause, and then Rose put out her hand.

"Goodbye, Dean."

Dean looked taken aback, but then he reached out and shook her hand. He smirked as he asked, "What? No goodbye kiss?"

She shook her head at him in exasperation, sighing.

"Don't ever change," she said with a laugh.

He grinned at her.

"Never."

She let go of his hand with a smile and turned to Sam.

"Goodbye, Sam," she said.

Sam smiled back at her.

Then she reached out and hugged him tightly. Sam was a bit surprised, and he caught an equal look of surprise on his brother's face.

But he went along with it, putting his arms around her to hug her back.

"Bye, Rose."

She pulled away, still smiling.

"Listen…Sam…I want to give you my cell number."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, handing it to him. He took it from her and looked at it before smiling and putting it into his own pocket.

"If you're ever in the area again, I want you to call me, okay? There's some things I…some things I want to talk to you about."

Sam saw Dean raise his eyebrows suggestively out of the corner of his eye, and he ignored him.

"Okay?" she asked again, putting her hand on his arm and squeezing gently.

Suddenly, Sam knew she wanted to talk about what had happened that night…how she had been able to calm him down. Why she seemed to radiate this peaceful, calm feeling wherever she went. She just wasn't quite ready yet to talk to him, to let him in on her secret. She reminded him a bit of his brother…though far less annoying.

He knew he would come back sometime. And if she was ready to share, then he'd be ready to listen.

Sam smiled at her and said, "Sure."

She let go of his arm and smiled at him, and he was sure she understood.

She walked toward the door, turning around once more.

"Bye, guys. Take care."

The brothers smiled at her. Dean waved and Sam said, "You, too."

Then she left.

The two of them stood in silence a moment. Dean looked confused about the moment Rose and his brother had just shared. And a bit upset over the fact that all he'd gotten was a handshake.

Sam rolled his eyes and smiled at the look on his brother's face.

He'd explain it to him later.

In the meantime…

"Ready to get the hell out of here, big brother?" Sam asked, slapping him on the back.

Dean turned to him and smirked. "You bet your ass I am."

* * *

**AN:** That's not all folks! The epilogue is finished, and you don't even have to wait for it! ;) 

And I just wanted to comment on how VERY happy I am that I was able to incorporate a reference to the vacuum mouth eating habits that Dean exhibited in "Nightmare" and "Provenance." Probably my favorite reference to the show that I put in here. Hopefully you caught it. ;)


	4. Don't Mess with a Winchester

**The New Big Brother**

– – **Epilogue – – **

"_Don't Mess with a Winchester"_

"Oh my god. Sam…how could you?"

Sam tried hard not to laugh at the ridiculously stunned look on his brother's face. He watched as Dean continued to stare, his mouth wide open.

"Dean, you're being ridic-"

"I want to go back to the hospital."

Dean turned around abruptly and took a step back toward the hospital, but Sam grabbed his arm, put a hand on his shoulder, and gently turned him back around.

"Come on, Dean. You're overreacting. You've wanted to leave since we got here."

"I know, Sam, but…look at it! It's…it's horrible."

"Dean, it's just a minivan."

"Exactly! It's the kind of car that screams 'I'm a high school dork who can't afford his own car and has to drive his mother's car when she's not using it to drive my equally dorky kid brother and his gaggle of annoying friends to their soccer games.' Forget it, Sam."

Sam sighed. They had finally gotten out of the hospital after three long weeks of being bored out of their minds. They were finally free. Now all Dean could do was complain about their getaway car.

"Dean, come on, man. It's just a car."

"Sam, it's a Soccer Mom Van," Dean hissed.

Sam groaned.

"You're the one who told me you didn't care what I got as long as it was ready to 'get us the hell out of here as soon as they free us from this prison.'"

"I know, Sam, but…I mean…look at the color. It looks like…I don't know, some freaky colored Easter egg or something," Dean said, talking fast.

"It's teal."

"Oh, thank god! It's teal! Now I feel SO much more manly!" Dean cried, tossing his arms up in the air in frustration.

Sam couldn't help it.

He burst out laughing.

"How could you possibly think this is FUNNY!" Dean asked incredulously, looking at Sam like he had lost his mind.

Sam got his laughter under control. He couldn't help it. Dean was just being so ridiculous. "Come on, man. It's the best thing they had."

"What, did you go to _Hell_ and back to get this thing?"

"Dean, it's practical. It's got plenty of leg room-"

"It's not my fault you're a giant _freak_!"

"-and it's really comfortable. The doctors said you still need to rest. You know they only let you out when you promised to keep resting. And you didn't just promise them. You promised _me_."

"But-"

"The sooner you get some rest, the sooner I'll stop bothering you about it."

"Sam…"

"Besides, it's not even like we'll be in it that long. Just until we can get to Lincoln and get Dad's truck out of impound. Then I'll drive this thing back to the rental place and you can drive Dad's car. We'll have Dad's truck for a few weeks, and before you know it, Bobby will have the Impala fixed."

"But Sam…." Dean continued to stare at the car like he was afraid it was going to eat him.

Sam sighed, his head dropping down in exhaustion. Dean could be so stubborn sometimes.

He had no choice.

He'd have to pull The Face.

"Dean, it's just for a few days. At _most_. We'll go to Chelsea…." Sam's voice dropped off, not wanting to touch on the delicate subject of going to Chelsea, Kansas to say a proper goodbye to their father, who had been buried there two weeks ago, next to their mother's memorial. He continued.

"And then we'll head straight to Lincoln. Two days, Dean. Two days. That's it."

"Sam…." Dean drew his gaze away from the evil monster in front of him.

He refused to give in to his little brother on this one.

Then his eyes focused on Sam.

"Oh god," he moaned.

Sam was giving him The Face - puppy dog eyes, pouty lips. The "I'm your little brother and you know you can't say no to me" look.

"Sammy, come on…"

Sam didn't let up.

Dean growled.

He was _never_ going to be able to say "no" to Sam.

Ever.

"Fine," Dean agreed through gritted teeth. "As long as you _promise_ me that it won't be for more than two days."

Sam wiped the look off his face and smiled.

Dean was _so_ predictable.

"Sure. I promise."

Dean sighed loudly and looked down at the ground, defeated. After a minute, he looked up at the car again, and Sam thought he saw the glimmer of a pout flash over his face before quickly disappearing. Dean turned his head back to take one look at the hospital, then turned around to face Sam, and Sam was glad to see Dean's trademark smirk in place.

"Let's get the hell out of here," he said.

Sam smiled at him.

"Gladly."

Sam opened the passenger side door first so Dean could get in. He wasn't surprised that Dean didn't protest not being able to drive.

It was all part of his plan to make sure Dean got the rest he needed.

Dean put a leg up in the car and prepared to slowly push himself up the short distance to the seat. Sam put one hand behind Dean's back and the other on his shoulder, and was happy when Dean allowed him to help him sit down. Sam cringed when pain flashed over Dean's face. Sam knew, as much as his brother tried to hide it, that Dean was still hurting. He had seen Dean show signs of pain when he thought Sam wasn't looking. Dean had been hurt badly. He had almost died. He _had _died.

Sam knew his brother really needed to rest more, and Sam was going to make damn sure he did.

When Sam had helped Dean into his seat, Dean settled in, and Sam thought he heard a faint mumbling. Something about "crumbs" and "sticky stuff" and "don't know where it's been."

Sam smiled as he closed the door. He went around to the driver's side and climbed in, closing the door. He glanced over at Dean, who was gazing silently out the window.

"Dean. Seatbelt," Sam said, indicating the belt that he hadn't put on.

Dean growled and looked at him, his face clearly saying, "You've got to be kidding me."

Sam started at him, waiting for him to obey.

Dean rolled his eyes and began putting the belt on.

"You're killing me, Sam."

"No. I'm just trying to keep you safe," Sam said seriously.

Dean turned to look at his little brother, noticing the change in his tone. Sam was looking at him sadly, imploringly.

A genuine smile lit up Dean's face. "You're right, Sammy. And you're doing a great job."

Sam smiled back at him in much the same way. "Thanks, Dean."

They continued to smile at each other.

It was a tender moment.

It had to stop.

Dean laughed, rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and smacked Sam on the arm. "Come on, dude. Put your seatbelt on and get us the hell out of here."

Sam laughed. He put his belt on, started the car, and turned on the radio, pushing in the cassette that was waiting to be played. He'd made sure to get a car with a cassette player. Dean couldn't live without his music, after all.

Sam turned to gauge Dean's reaction as AC/DC's "Back in Black" started playing through the speakers. Sam smiled when he noticed that Dean had found his sunglasses on the dashboard. He was reclining back in his seat, glasses on, and a smirk on his face.

"Always knew you had good taste in music, Sammy."

Sam smiled as he put the car in gear and pulled out of the space. Dean must have known it was all for him.

As Sam pulled out of the parking lot, he turned at the sound of Dean's voice.

Dean looked at Sam as he said, "Wake me up when we get to Chelsea. No one will ever have to know I gave in to my little brother and his teal monstrosity."

Sam shook his head and laughed as Dean settled back in his seat, head inclined toward the window.

As Sam headed toward the highway, he contemplated where they were headed. They planned to head to Chelsea, Kansas to say goodbye to John. It had been Dean's idea to visit their father's grave as soon as they got out. Sam had asked him if he was sure that was what he wanted to do, if he was really ready for that, and Dean had quietly assured him that he was. After that they would head to Lincoln, Nebraska to get John's truck. They would drive that until Bobby got the Impala fixed.

After returning the rental car, Sam wasn't sure where they would go. He figured they would head off and find a hotel somewhere. Someplace Dean could continue resting. And when Sam gave Dean a clean bill of health…they would start hunting again. They hadn't seen any sign of the demon since the crash. But they would keep an eye out for it and for any signs that it was back in action. And while they did that, they would keep fighting the good fight. Finding evil wherever they could find it and kicking it's ass.

Because that's what you did if you were a Winchester.

As Sam pulled onto the highway, he heard a loud snort beside him. He turned toward his brother and smiled. He was breathing gently and slowly, sound asleep, a peaceful look on his face.

Sam sighed and focused his attention back on the road. They weren't that far from Chelsea. Sam knew they could get there before dark. What he didn't know was what was going to happen when they got there.

Their father was dead. They were alone now. It was just the two of them.

It was going to be hard.

Sam looked over at Dean again. He looked so peaceful, and Sam realized that he also looked…young…and small…and vulnerable.

And Sam knew that sometimes he would have to play the role of big brother. Sometimes, though his brother would never admit it, Dean needed Sam to be the strong one.

Sam would gladly accept the responsibility whenever Dean would let him.

The two of them weren't _really_ alone in the world.

They had each other.

And together, they could get through anything.

After all, they were Winchesters.

And Winchesters were not to be messed with.

**THE END**

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* * *

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**AN:** That's it guys. It's done. I really hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have a few ideas running around in my head for a sequel, but I'm not making any promises. I have a lot of holes to fill in and I have to make sure that what I have will work before I decide. If I do write one, I can say that it would take place right after this and be told from Dean's POV. 

So anyway, like I said, I really hope you all enjoyed this. And don't forget to make my day and leave me lots and lots of reviews! Please and thank you:D

And on an off note, if anyone can tell me how to make spaces in this thing, I'd greatly appreciate it. I always upload Word documents, and for some reason when I try to put spaces in here it shows up fine in a preview, but then I save the changes and it's back to being spaceless. I like using spaces for effect, and for some dumb reason I can't do it. I'd love it if someone could help me.;)


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